A Reason to Run
by shadowblade-tara
Summary: Sometimes, all you really need is a darn good reason. Two-shot prequel to Stone Wall.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Anime © Rumiko Takahashi; song "Mirror" © Barlow Girls

**Mirror, Mirror**

She slowly pulled herself to her feet, the bathroom floor slick with her own blood. She was shaking, anger, pain, and betrayal coursing through her with such intensity that she thought she would faint. Blood loss didn't help either. Her small hands left red smears across the porcelain sink, and it was all she could do to keep the tears from falling. In the living room of the small apartment, she could hear the music playing loudly, trying to cover any sounds she might still make. Soon he would be in here to clean up the mess he made.

Her body ached, trembling from the aftershocks of the sudden violence. She was barefoot, glass from the broken bathroom mirror strewn about the floor. She made an effort not to step on it, but winced as a small sliver of the stuff worked its way into her foot. The tears now came freely down her cheeks, and the pain was almost too much to bear.

She was only sixteen! Why did this have to happen to her? She had been trying to escape, to do the brave thing and leave while she was still alive. And now she was trapped in another fresh hell, marked as an abusive demon's mate-to-be. It wasn't fair, but Kagome already knew that. Life had never been fair. Was it fair that her mother left when she was ten, leaving her at the mercy of the monster who was called her father? Was it fair that Hakudoshi, who she once viewed as her savior from that life, turned out to be a bigger monster than her dad? No, it wasn't. Kagome knew that.

Slowly, she looked up, seeing her own torn and battered reflection. Even with several pieces missing from the frame, she could still see enough of what she was. Blood-streaked face, bruises that would be impossible to hide for a while, the skin swollen and the bone fractured. Tears streaming down her cheeks, cutting rivers through the dirt and grime. And there, on her neck, was a fresh bite mark.

The words escaped her in a whisper, her only way of expressing herself now.

"_Mirror, mirror on the wall – have I got it?_

_Because Mirror you've always told me who I am."_

Her hands clenched into fists, and slowly an idea formed in her mind. There was acid underneath the sink. She knew – how many burns did she have because of that dreaded liquid? And yet, it was about to work for her instead of against her. Slowly, more to avoid making unnecessary noises than to avoid the pains the movement woke, she knelt down and reached for the bottle.

There – small and green and completely innocuous. Hydrochloric acid, and it would do the trick. She was sure of it. Hakudoshi would smell the chemical, of course, but by the time he bothered checking in on her she would be out the bathroom window and down the street, maybe even somewhere she could finally feel at peace. She wasn't even sure if such a place existed any more. Maybe it had all been a dream, something her mother had made up to justify leaving behind her defenseless daughter and condemning her to a live of misery.

She couldn't stand it any more. She hadn't done anything to deserve this.

"_I'm finding it's not easy to be perfect."_

This would end. Either she would die, or she would escape. But no longer would she be a slave to anyone.

She refused to be weak.

The tears dried as she unscrewed the cap to the green bottle. With a delicate splash, she poured some over her shoulder, then had to bite her other wrist to keep from screaming in agony. She had almost forgotten how bad that stuff hurt. She quickly grabbed a towel and blotted at it, keeping it from trying to chew all the way through her shoulder. Tears came again, this time for a different reason. Her voice choked as she fought against the sobs that threatened to burst out and give her away. Plenty of time for crying later.

"_So sorry, you don't define me._

_Sorry, you don't own me."_

Her fist clenched around the bottle. She threw it against the wall, statisfaction coursing through her as she heard it shatter, spilling its toxic contents across the floor. Screams tore from her throat, and still he didn't come to stop her. This had happened far too many times. Three months of living in this hell-house, and now it would end.

"_Who are you to tell me that I'm less than what I should be?_

_Who are you? Who are you?_

_I don't need to listen to the list of things I should do!_

_I won't try. I won't try."_

Later, Hakudoshi would wonder about the screaming, about the strange chemical odor he noted. He would go to check on Kagome, expecting to find her curled up asleep on the bathroom floor. If it had been a normal night, he would have picked her up and put her back on the couch where she slept. In his own twisted way, he cared for her. Just enough to not kill her.

But this wasn't a normal night. He would go to check on Kagome, but all he would find was an open window, flapping in the breeze, and the stench of eaten linoleum.

Kagome would be several miles away by then, worn-out backpack thrown over one shoulder and packed with everything she could find, and not looking back.

_Mirror I am seeing a new reflection._


	2. Chapter 2

song "Never Again" © Nickleback

**Never Again**

He sat on the couch like he was supposed to, far from the screaming and crying coming from his parents' room. His eyes were fixed to the carpet, as stained and unattractive as it was, for fear of his father coming from the room sooner than he thought he would. It was a well-trained response in the boy, one that he wasn't sure he would ever be able to overcome. He could not look anyone in the eye, and he could not speak. To do so would invite pain, and Sesshoumaru had no desire to inflict any more pain on himself than his father normally gave.

The reason was his autism – that's why he didn't talk or look people in the eye. He liked to dress himself – that's why he always wore long-sleeved shirts and jeans, no matter the weather. The family was having financial problems – that's why his clothes were always dirty and rarely ever clean. Excuses, always excuses, and yet he had to wonder why no one ever saw through the ruse. Excuses only went so far – they didn't explain his mother. Unable to work for fear of exposing her bruises. No friends for fear they would discover the secret she had so carefully harbored. No one to know just how brave she was being by staying like this, when everyone knew his father never held her against her will.

To leave the father would be to leave the son, and the mother could not do that. She would not condemn him to the existence she was forced to live. Soon enough, Sesshoumaru would be old enough to leave home, and when he did he was taking his mother with him.

The screams got worse, and now Sesshoumaru could hear the words. About him, of course. He was the only reason Mother would raise her voice to Father.

_he's drunk again it's time to fight_

_same old shit just one a different night_

His fist tightened in his lap. There was a method to tonight's madness. If no one would liberate them, then they would liberate themselves. Even Taisho, who should have known – he should have figured it out after finding Sesshoumaru dying of blood loss in his backyard, the gash on his arm from elbow to 

wrist – even Taisho hadn't filed a report. There were no cops, no investigation. No doubt Taisho had checked with his brother, had gotten yet another excuse. Sesshoumaru was forever playing with knives, you know – he didn't know any better. It wasn't his fault, Father's attention had slipped for just a moment. They were taking care of it as best they could. They couldn't afford medication.

They were a family to be pitied.

Gunshots went off, drawing Sesshoumaru from his thoughts. His eyes went wide – he was on his feet and staring at the door before he realized what he was doing. Father came out of the room, his eyes dark and the gun still gripped tightly in his hand. The reek of alcohol hung from him, clouding his angry scent into one more familiar. Sesshoumaru tensed, his hand tightening around the knife.

Father laughed. "Are you going to stand against me too, little pup?"

Sesshoumaru's eyes bled red. "Yes."

_seen it before but not like this_

_been there before but not like this_

_never before have I seen him this bad_

He charged, plunging the knife into the demon's chest. Again and again and again. Three wounds, all in the chest. Sesshoumaru left the knife, buried to the hilt in flesh. Father would not survive.

He could no longer smell Mother's scent, masked by death. He shuddered, but he did not cry.

Later, the cops would arrive and take him away. They would investigate, and Sesshoumaru's physical as well as the autopsy on both victims would show the true victims had been Sesshoumaru and his mother, not his father. He would be released, charges dropped on the condition that he remained in the care of Taisho until he came of age.

That night, he cried for the loss of his mom, the one person who had been able to defend him, and the one person who he might have been able to save.

That night, he cut himself again, grief and self-loathing driving him to try one more time.

Once again, he failed.

In failing, he had to accept that for whatever reason, he was meant to live. He did not want to – in fact, he didn't even want to consider the implications living had. Sooner or later, he would have to interact with the rest of the world. He didn't know if he could or not. The only friend he had was online. He had no reference to start from. There was nothing. Not even being at Taisho's college could bring him from his shell.

When he met the dark-haired girl with secrets of her own, he understood.

_never again!_

/--/

AN: Ok, here's the thing. This is the prequel sorta-kinda to Stone Wall. The reasons why Kagome and Sesshoumaru finally got out of their situations. If you want me to, I can pull two more stories out of this (or at least two more story arcs like this one) – Sesshoumaru's story of how he and Kikyou got involved and what came of that, and Kagom'es tale of how she made it to the college. If you want me to do this, let me know when you review. K? Good.

Until next time, I remain yours truly,

Shadowblade-tara


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